Dust
by Roxie Archer
Summary: Sakura does what she can while she's been given the chance and is always grateful for the time she has with her odd, make-shift "family".


Disclaimer: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles is the intellectual property of CLAMP.

Author's Notes: Here is Sakura's little blip.

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_Dust_

They were living in a house that no one had lived in in many years. It was a forgotten house in a forgotten place. It was haunted by the souls of the long-passed rich, people who have lived a grand life in a grand world and who's world had followed them in passing. The white paint was peeling on the sides of the house and wild vines had grown and wound around pillars and up walls and died. Pavement had cracked. Wood in places had rotted and parts of the house were unsafe, but to Sakura, it held an unparalleled beauty.

Fai-san had complained of the dust in the house, and it was dirty. He had whined and said he could hardly breathe for it and had taken to spending his days outside in the warm weather. Oh, he hadn't complained to Sakura, he had complained to Kurogane, but Sakura wanted them all to be happy, if she could help it, and so Sakura had taken a day and set it aside for dusting.

It wasn't easy to dust a house of that size, especially when it did not want to be dusted. The house was old and it was stubborn and set in its ways. Wherever Sakura dusted, great clouds of grayish dust and soot would take to the air and hang, blocking her vision and making her cough.

Windows were opened and curtains taken out like the rugs to hang. Sakura borrowed Syaoran's goggles and shooed everyone away, tying her hair under a handkerchief. They all offered to help her, at one point or another; even Kurogane grumbled about the whole thing not being necessary since they weren't really moving in, after all. But once Sakura had started, it had to be done.

Sakura would clean, and from outside would drift in the sweet sounds of the wind instrument Fai had found in the drawing room. It was easily the most beautiful sound Sakura had ever heard. The foreign melody, flowing from foreign lips, reminded Sakura wistfully of home; of oceans of warm golden sand as far as the eye could see and warm peaceful days under a lazy sun. Sakura wondered vaguely if the melody likewise reminded Fai of ice and snow.

It seemed to Sakura that she had gathered just enough memories to relate to this house, with clouds of dust hazing her recollections and choking her with the knowledge that even with all that she had remembered, all she had been able to clear the dust away from, there was still so much more left hidden away, so much that she did not even know about herself.

The dust was in her mind and in her lungs and this, these people and their hazardous time spent together, was all that she had. They risked their lives, gave so much of themselves, to help her and it was painful to know how little she could offer them in return; to Syaoran, whose soul looked broken through his eyes and yet he gladly _lived_ for her, to Fai who's painful smile betrayed his self-loathing as he danced around others and yet was betrayed by his own heart that had grown to love them, and Kurogane, whose gruff exterior had not driven them away like so many before and therefore could not stop him from pulling them all close and in turn becoming fiercely protective of the awkward family they had become.

Sakura loved them all and one day, one day she would sacrifice as they had for this journey and for them. She would do it gladly, and proudly. They would see that she had grown since meeting them, she had flowered and gained strength and felt pain. Sakura had matured enough to know that until that time, it was enough to do the small things for them, to spend time with Fai so that he knew that she trusted him despite his secrets, to sometimes buy the manga that Kurogane liked whenever she was out shopping with anyone else so that he knew he was appreciated, to smile at Syaoran so that her smile might be mirrored back warmly, drawing him from the thoughts that seemed to haunt him so painfully, and to always include Mokona, so that it knew (Sakura wasn't _exactly_ sure weather Mokona was a boy or a girl and thought it rude to ask) that it was needed.

Dusting might not have seemed important, or even necessary, but as long as there was something Sakura could do to help, she would do it. The more she dusted, the more memories she uncovered within the house from years of dust and soot, the happier the house seemed to become, just like every feather of memory that returned to her made her feel less like an outsider in her own skin as though she were merely floating along with no purpose. Those memories reminded her that every moment was precious and fleeting and every relationship should be cherished. Sakura never wanted to forget anything ever again.

As she dusted clear the memories of the house they took shelter in, made memories of their own in - however short-lived -, with the sound of Fai's melody in the background, now accompanied by Mokona's touching lyrics, Sakura felt overwhelmingly grateful just to be alive and to be here, in this place, right now, with people she cherished. One day, their journey would come to an end, the dust would be gone and her memories of the past whole once more, but the memory of these people as they were now, and these rare and quiet days, would always hold a special place in her heart and remind her, no matter what came to pass in the future, that she was part of a family and that she had never forgotten the small things that made them smile; just as the cleaned and cleared paintings above the house's fireplace reminded that house that once, it had been a home.

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Post whatevers: Sakura is very intuned to the feelings of inanimate objects, like trees and buildings... I found I liked to write for her for this very reason. Again, with Mokona, Mokona is Mokona, "You would count them one Mokona, two Mokona, and then you'd stop. There are only two.", gender doesn't really matter. As always, if you liked, please review. Ja!


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